I am never offended by suggestions. But many suggestions from well meaning readers often don’t improve the poem... so I ignore them. But as Michael and Bernie would attest, I often revise my poems, sometimes substantially, based on constructive criticism. So feel free to suggest.

Ekphrastic really as we know the story,
so maybe far too descriptive. Perhaps the fire
was the spark, and I like the thought behind it, to
bring attention to the current story unfolding in Paris
and the famous hunchback and his beloved, a story
of unrequited love, repulsive as he is and deaf as a
cracked bell, he is pure inside and the crowd filled with hatred.

Within these stone [cathedral] walls
the world's [crowd's hatred] confusion and cruelty
calms, as inevitably

as a stirred drink settles.
Or it did before I carried Esmeralda [her - we know her name]
off to Notre Dame's heights, [cut Notre dame it's in the title]

rescuing her from the gallows.
"Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" I shouted
to the angry pack of dogs below. [maybe too emotive let the story tell 'pack of dogs is insulting to dogs' they are the evil side of humanity]

But even when I bring her an extra
blanket, a second cup of soup
she can't hide her disgust [I find this far to descriptive, maybe: 'when I bring soup, I notice she draws away or shrinks a little - if only I could win her with kindness I have little else to give compared to her handsome captain,]

at my deformity.
Why wouldn't Esmeralda fall
for the pretty Captain Phoebus? line 2 nad 3 are excellent, leave them in. No need to mention the hump, it's like the elephant in the room.

A dried creek bed isn't as shallow [excellent line]
as that ass. Who said the world's just?
I could bring apples in winter

to Esmeralda, the finest wines
from the Archdeacon's collection,
and still I would be Quasimodo, [cut this strophe/stranza]

hunchback--my future
a dirty bed of straw.
I am a leper without a colony, [excellent line]

and yet my heart goes crazy
just being near her--
but I'm no fool. Lonely, I can never [this isn't bad, a bit more]

[I would stop here- the ambition of this 'S' excellent, needs a tad more to finish of in triumph.
The kind of triumph as in when Christ Jesus the God of all the Universe rises from the grave
after terrible affliction from men to save fallen mankind. Willing ness to sacrifice all for the love of man [a woman].
Maybe show satisfaction that just being near her is enough.

fly to her, the distance
between us too great for an ugly
pigeon with clipped
wings.

I find the the opening of VI, esp the 1st stanza, has been forfeited to streamlining:

"Taunts are hurled like stones
by boys and drunks. I duck many
because I'm stone deaf--from ringing bells.

People think that I'm dumb
when I don't respond, but I have
always known where to find peace."

^^ There are details there that have been forfeited to streamlining. The intro of the rock/stone motif, which you have skillfully articulated in stanza one, is much more creatively engaging than are the revisions.
The realization of how & why Quasimodo lost hearing, when others aren't aware, creates an irony in which the others are in the dumb position, and they have hearing.

Here is my workshop share:

Taunts are hurled like rocks
by boys and drunks. I duck many
because I'm stone deaf--from ringing bells.

People think me dumb
when I don't respond, but it is I
who has found the place of peace.

Bob, I must lay me down to sleep in my man cave; perhaps I'll workshop more,

Thx for workshopping... you have some interesting suggestions....why am I not stone, the bells slowing, trimming some of the Esmeraldas... for now I am swapping one Esmeralda for gypsy girl....At a later time I might revisit your ideas.... regardless of how the poem fares at the IBPC.